too much

too many smiles, not enough words
too much friendship, not enough thought
too much fun, not enough morality
too much company, not enough normality
too much happiness, too little reality

New Updates

I know that most people do not like Riddle, so this will be great news for them. Riddle is over for the foreseeable future! I have more chapters written, but not typed, and i don't particularly want to type them up. The next thing I will start posting will either be It's All in the Wrist or Hit Me Up, but right now it is looking like It's All in the Wrist. Sorry for the Riddle-ness.

Riddle 25 and 26

Waking up. It's a odd thing that most carbon based lifeforms have a tendency to do once their sleep has reached an end. Different people wake up different ways, after different forms of resting. Diversity is key. Some people wake up like a crazy person, arms flailing, noise blaring. Some people are on a hair trigger and those people typically kill the first person they, assuming that the intruder were an assassin sent to kill them. Some awake slowly, like a lazy cat on a windowsill
I am normally a cat person. I wake up slowly and calmly, as if it had all been apart of my diabolical scheme and no, I'm not just lazy.
This time I found myself awake, without a feeling of drowsiness leaving my mind. One moment I was staring into the eyes of a beautiful maiden, as we walked for eternity. Then I was looking at Cheri's dull ceiling. My eyes felt like they hadn't closed or even moved for hours, minus the eyestrain. My body wasn't tired, and it lacked a normal, post sleep condition.

Riddle 24

Dreams can be either incredibly odd, or incredibly telling. For some people, myself included, dreams are a wondrous thing. They allow for the impossible to be possible, the unreal to become tangible. Dreams aren't always amazing, nightmares were the true plague of this spectacular realm. Personally, I almost never had a nightmare, not since I was really young. That might explain my empathetic support of dreams. The dream I had last night was both odd and telling. It went something like this.
Step. Step. Step. I was walking down a hallway. From the looks of it the hallway looked similar to an abandoned hospital. Doors adjourned each side, and, out of curiosity, I opened the first one I saw.
The smell hit my nose before the light hit my eyes, and a smile grew on my face. It was an exact copy of Robin's restaurant. I walked over to the bathroom door and flung it open. There was Robin, dead as a doornail. It wasn't even the bathroom that the door led to, it just led to the stall he was killed in. I could feel tears building up around my eyes, so I closed the door. As I was wiping the salty water in my eyes, I heard bustling from the kitchen. Natural my detective instincts drew me over to investigate. Once my presence was located in the kitchen, I was greeted by a familiar face.

Riddle 23

We were absolutely stunned by Nazo's recent development. However, a true Holmes knows how to get back on his feet when he is floored.
"What do you mean?" He turned his head so that he was looking directly at me.
"I know everything about this package. It was made in the mid west, some place like Colorado. The image is kind of blurry. Then it was shipped to a nearby store via a white truck with red lettering across the side and the truck kept making this really annoying this thudunk noise. The store was called Gigante or something like that. About two weeks ago a young glasses wearing girl." He pointed to Cheri. "You to be precise, bought this package. It then sat in the second from the bottom drawer in your fridge until you just recently decided to rip its organs out and eat them." His deadpan face mocked us, though it was mainly directed at her.

Play Update

After a recent and heartfelt talk with a friend, I have been convinced too write a new play slightly based off of his story. It will be my first attempt at a drama, as well as a full play,

Riddle 22

One would expect that with such an aura of happiness being exuded, we would be recklessly riding the damn bike all the way home. Hazardously endangering our lives like the stupid young kids we are. So that same one should be ashamed for assuming, as we had the surprising intelligence to wait until we had left the city before we decided to become rather suicidal, because we did in fact ride that bike.
We came to a rather loud halt, curtsey of a shiny metal trash can that we neglected to notice. Fortunately we had the soft grassy lawn to break our fall, instead of our previous cushion; Me. Despite almost many times, we were not scared but rather we laughed the whole experience off, as if it was no big deal. We got off the lawn and stumbled, not unlike a zombie, to the door. Once we were inside the house, Nazo and I collapsed on the nearest couch, my our more mature partner went somewhere else in the house. I didn't really care as my legs were practically on fire, and all I wanted was sleep.

Riddle 21

"It is true that some people in Jones International committed fraud, but that was out of my sector. I work directly under Mr. Killmeyer, as his senior secretary. And while he wasn't one of the ones who were fraudulent, everyone at our branch of Jones international was feeling the pressure released by the media and our CEO, Greg Jones. Even the lower members such as myself were feeling it. But the ones who suffered the most were the group of people who were in between the higher and lower echelons. The heads of departments primarily made up this group. Mr. Jones is one of those people; he is head of the Jones International branch located in the city.

Riddle 20

"Preposterous!" shouted the banker. "It was suicide wasn't it?" At this he pointedly looked at the
deputy. Dave flinches at the glare, but nonetheless he stuttered.
"T-that's right… We already declared this a s-suicide." At this Cheri spoke up.
"Police code 747, a suicide case can always be reopened if enough evidence exists that it could be murder or manslaughter, and this one looks like murder to me." Now two death glares were focused on our deputy, intent of making him keel over. Needless to say we weren't that lucky, as his standing up attested to, he was very much so alive. I turned my head away from the scared deputy, and instead turned my head towards Ms. Howard.

Riddle 19

"Good game."
I smiled and shook the old Medical Examiner's hand, making sure not to hit the chess pieces on the board in between us. I was given congratulations and a smile, curtsey of the old man and my Watson. Nazo was busy feigning boredom on his face. Clap. Clap. I turned my head to the recently emitted clapping sound. There stood the Chief and his underling, the deputy.
"I must say that I've never met a man who had beaten our M.E. in chess. I myself have never come close."
"Thank you. And in turn I must say that I didn't think that you would take so long for a case that your staff had already claimed to be solved."
"Just trying to be through, but thankfully I had my trusted deputy to do all the dirty work before hand."
"I don't think that he will be referred to as such in the near future?" I muttered under my breath.
"What was that?"
I cleared my throat as if to suddenly gain importance.
"The case isn't solved sir. Not even close."
"Why would you say that?"
"Before I explain everything, I would like you to round up a few people."
"Who?"
"Andrew Killmeyer, Laura Howard, and finally Ms. Sara Troy."
"Alright, but this better be good."
"I assure you that it will."
I turned back towards the M.E. and asked.
"Up for an easier challenge?"
"It's good to know that I can still win at this game." said the M.E..
Cheri hung her head in shame.
"Now now, there will be none of that as there is no shame in losing. Besides, you were a worthy opponent."
Nazo and I congratulated her on her commendable sportsmanship, and I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from uttering words that would most likely get my head on a pike by dawn tomorrow. As if sensing this, my partner delivered well textbook Muay Thai elbow jab to my stomach, therefore knocking the wind out of me.
"Your not one to talk."
"Noted..." That was all I could saying with whatever remaining air was in my lungs.
The bells on the front door signaled the arrival of my requested humans, followed closely by Mr. McHale. They all were forced to sit down at the same table, as it made for easier interrogation.
"Alright Noah, the people you requested are here. Impress me."
"And I shall sir."
I turned to face everyone, but especially the trio of my request.
"The game of chess can never start without all the pieces present. So now I will begin what will be a perfect game, amusing those who wished to be amused.
I walked over to right in front of the table, looking solely at them.
"You would think that a man committing suicide would leave a suicide note right?"
Two yes's arose from the elders of the trio, while the youngest, Sara, just sniffled.
"Then why didn't Robin have one?" No one responded to my rhetorical question. I sighed in response to their lack of response. After my sigh I moved over to the cash register and started fiddling with it.
"Two months and a few days ago, the now deceased Robin pulled me aside. He told me this ' Noah, I don't plan on dying. But if for some reason I do happen to pass away, I left my will and testament underneath the most bountiful place in the store. If your not yet 18 when this happens, then give it to Sara, if you are, then its all yours.'"
I finished my fiddling with the cash register and lifted it up enough for me to reach underneath it. I pulled a cobweb covered letter from out under it. I brushed the debris off then handed it to Sara.
"Ms. Troy, would you do the honors?"
She gulped and nodded simultaneously. Her hand trembled as she reached for the letter, as if it were her only lifeline. My fellow former employee slowly opened it and gasped.
"T-this is his handwriting..."
"Go on."
Sara then began to read the life changing bill aloud.
Dear Sara and or Noah.
If you are not one of those people, please either A) put it back where you found it, or B) give it to one of the said people, as it is not polite to read another persons mail.
Hello Sara and or Noah, as by now the person reading this must be one of you two.
I can only presume that if you are seeing these words, then I am most likely dead. If not, please give it back, it would ruin the whole sense of … whatever a will is supposed to fell like...
Still reading? Then I have passed away.
I wish no tears unto you, as my life was a happy one, filled with joy. That is why, even with the present circumstances, I will not go into any protection program. I love the store I have spent countless years building up to much to see it disappear. And I guess I would miss you two as well.
The reason I was spurred to write this will happened to occur when I was visiting a friend who owned a store downtown. I was leaving out the backdoor for some silly reason when I caught ear of some revealing words about a nearby financial institution. Upon realizing what they were saying, I reported it to the media. Then I backed away, with no intention of getting myself further involved in what I saw.
But back to the will. As I told Noah, you, Sara Troy shall inherit everything I own. The catch? Once Noah turns 18 he gets everything I own, so try not to scratch anything will you?
I know I don't have much, but do with it what you will.
Signed Robin Gordon
Tears were falling freely from the current heir to Robins Bakery. I put my arm around her as a sign of comfort, and when I did so I was surprised by the lack of chill down my spine. Sara though, was not content with my generous gesture, as she, for lack a better word or phrase, tackle-hugged me, burying her tear cover face into my chest. I was almost relieved when I felt the death glare via Cheri, as it assured me the world wasn't ending.
We stayed like that for a while, before I determined that she had enough 'Noah Time', and disentangled ourselves. I moved over to my standing position, only this time I had a certain will and testament with me. I cleared my throat, in order to regain what lost professional appearance I once had, which earned a chuckle from an easily amused Probi.
"I was always happy with my life... That doesn't sound like a very depressed person now does it Chief?"
"No Noah, it certainly doesn't." He spoke with a dark tone in his voice. I smiled a I begun to nail to the first nail into the killers coffin.
"In fact, I believe it's perfectly natural for to say that someone in this room killed Robin."

Riddle 18

The air shifted around me, transforming from a state of rising tension to an atmosphere of what seemed to be respectful fear. Cheri and Dave were trying, and failing, to keep up the illusion of being calm. Only Nazo and I could keep that illusion up, except that Nazo was the only one that truly held that emotion tightly. The chief of police walked up to me and held out his hand. I grasped it with as much force as I could muster, not surprised when my hand was met with equal, if not greater, force. His eyebrow raised in a pleased surprise.

Riddle 17

Screams and shrieks were exclaimed at a rapid velocity throughout the street. The only thing more common was dives for personal safety. We swerved left and right, lacking the balance required for the basic act of riding a bicycle. Nazo was practically hanging off me, all for the naive possibility that his own life might be spared. A bump on the sidewalk drove said boy's knee sharply into the small of my back, and I regretted, not for the first time that day, that Cheri was not the one hanging off my back. The thought of that gave me a lecherous smile, though it was soon erased by my shouts.